Grand Piano
by cherryvanillaaa
Summary: "The people are talking, the people are saying that you have been playing my heart; like a grand piano. So play on, play on, play on." Alternate ending to SotL.
1. Prologue: Cruel World

**"You're dancing circles around me**  
 **You're fucking crazy**  
 **Oh oh, you're crazy for me**  
 **Oh oh, you're crazy for me..."**  
 **~ 'Cruel World' - Lana Del Rey**

" _Starling. Starling. Starling._ A bird with strong wings and feet, capable of flying great distances. Often bears a dark complexion with a vague, metallic sheen coating it's feathers... as if it were dipped in oil. Wouldn't you agree, Clarice?"

"Well, of that I'm not sure, sir. I don't think I've ever seen one; none that I would be able to identify, at least."

"An interesting creature - most phylum cordata usually are. Are you at all interested in the study of species?"

"Sure, I guess, but not of the animal variety, Doctor Lecter."

"Ahh, because there _are_ different species of human, right you are. Is that why you chose to become a figure of law enforcement, Clarice? To study the sea of moral defecation around you, and to try to _cleanse_ the world of it?"

"Mm, when you say it like that, it sounds more like you're describing a scientist, to me. Or maybe a doctor."

"But we are all scientists to our own right, aren't we, Clarice? And doctors are really just _glorified_ scientists, schooled to understand the inner workings of something and to try to find medically accurate compensation where there is a lack. Officers of the law do this as well, but not in the biological sense - in the social sense. They weed out those cancerous forms that attempt to spread evil unto the world; cut them out with the steel scalpel of _To protect and serve._ This requires some science, Clarice. You have done your own studying of the world."

"I have. We all have, sir."

" _Sir. Doctor Lecter._ So polite. Society lacks manners, nowadays. It's only gonna get worse from here."

"Not a very positive outlook for the future."

"I have hopes, but not high ones for society. Can you really blame me, Clarice? What with people like Buffalo Bill wreaking havoc in different parts of this cruel world?"

"With all do respect, Doctor, one could look at your actions and say the same."

"Mmm, _clever girl_. Too clever. You don't agree to fight violence with violence? _Survival of the fittest_? You'd likely lay your body down to form a bridge for those less fortunate, Clarice, and they would end up collapsing you to climb their ' _lil selves on_ _up that laddah_."

"But you can't fight fire with fire, either, sir. There has to be some sort of balance."

"And if they're not willing to compromise, Clarice? If they are not as sympathetic as you, then what?"

"I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it."

" _Starling._ Birds are quite impressive creatures, aren't they? The starling itself isn't widely known, but it is a clever little creature indeed. Strong little wings, sturdy feet with which to stand. It also has the ability to mimic the sounds of other animals that it hears - sometimes even the vocal sounds of _humans_."

"This is very interesting, Doctor Lecter, but I'd really like to get back on topic."

"Does it sound like I'm describing _you_ , Clarice? Do you repeat the things you hear from higher-ups in the department? Has Jack Crawford made you his _puppet_?"

"What do you think, Doctor? You've studied me at every meeting. Do my words sound like they've been scripted? Do they sound like they would _ever_ come out of Jack Crawford's mouth?"

"No, Agent Starling, they do not. You are indeed a creature _all your own_."

"So if I am a _Starling_ , sir, what are you?"

"That depends on _you_ , Clarice. I am either the cage keeper, or the one who opens the door and sets you free. The _choice_ is _yours_."


	2. Wolves

**One month after ending of SotL**

 **Wolves**

 **"In your eyes there's a heavy blue**  
 **One to love and one to lose**  
 **Sweet divide, a heavy truth**  
 **Water or wine, don't make me choose**  
 **I wanna feel the way that we did that summer night**  
 **Drunk on a feeling, alone with the stars in the sky**

 **I've been running through the jungle**  
 **I've been crying with the wolves**  
 **To get to you, to get to you**  
 **I've been down the darkest alleys**  
 **Saw the dark side of the moon**  
 **To get to you, to get to you**  
 **I've looked for love in every stranger**  
 **Took too much to ease the anger**  
 **All for you, yea all for you**  
 **I've been running through the jungle**  
 **I've been crying with the wolves**  
 **to get to you, oh to get to you**

 **Your fingertips trace my skin**  
 **To places I have never been**  
 **Blindly I am following**  
 **Break down these walls and come on in**  
 **I wanna feel the way that we did that summer night**  
 **Drunk on a feeling, alone with the stars in the sky**

 **I've been running through the jungle**  
 **I've been running with the wolves**  
 **To get to you, to get to you**  
 **I've been down the darkest alleys**  
 **Saw the dark side of the moon**  
 **To get to you, to get to you**  
 **I've looked for love in every stranger**  
 **Took too much to ease the anger**  
 **All for you, yea all for you**  
 **I've been running through the jungle**  
 **I've been crying with the wolves**  
 **To get to you, oh to get to you..."**

 _"Clarice?"_

Her face hurt; felt like it was being smushed against a hard surface. The voice broke through the darkness she had fallen into, and now she was slowly coming back to the world of consciousness, very slowly.

 _"Clarice,"_

She groaned with the effort of opening her eyes; her head felt as heavy as a bowling ball on her thin neck as she tried to raise it. When her eyes fluttered and focused, she noticed the light brown of the smooth top of her desk to the right of her vision. Lifting her head more, she realized it had been resting on the black and white mug shot of Hannibal Lecter in an old newspaper. She'd actually fallen asleep while working. All throughout school she hadn't even done that.

" _Jesus_ ," Came a female voice from behind her - probably Ardelia wondering where the hell her partner had been.

Clarice lifted her head all the way up off the desk, wisps from her ponytail sticking to the side of her face that had been covering the newspaper. She absently wiped a hand across her cheek, wondering if it would come away with gray smudges from the newspaper that were probably printed onto her face. Being so close to Doctor Lecter's mugshot on the paper, she noticed that the two dimensionality of the black and white photo did nothing to diminish his stare. It was as if he was staring into the soul of whomever was holding the paper - like he was staring into her soul once again.

Clarice turned around in her chair to face the woman whom she roomed with, Ardelia. Ardelia had graduated the academy shortly after Clarice had, and until they could each afford their own stable homes, they decided to share an apartment to help build their individual savings. They knew each other well - they'd survived the academy as roommates and knew they could live with one another (and only wanted to kill each other on rare occasions). They were now best friends, and knew almost everything about each other, so Ardelia was probably not surprised that even on their day off, Clarice was still working.

The other woman would have only been surprised if it was any other case she was working on.

"Girl, you look _rough_ ," Ardelia commented, not unkindly. Rather than suggest food or rest (or a therapist), she knew Clarice well enough to know that those questions would not phase her. Instead she asked: "Any leads?" Clarice appreciated her for everything she said - she knew the other woman was only looking out for her.

" _Um_ ," Clarice looked down at the small drool stain slowly seeping into the paper right next to Doctor Lecter's mug shot. "Not yet, today." She rose from the chair and stretched, groaning as her neck cracked from being at the odd angle when her face rested against the desk. How long had she been like that? "Any idea what time it is?" Apparently she'd removed her watch at some point too. God, she was _never_ this disoriented.

"A little after twelve," Ardelia had checked her own watch, peering around Clarice at the desktop. She, herself, was all dressed up - dressy casual in nice black pants and a sweeping flowery top. Clarice had known she had a date this morning - brunch at a little diner in town with another agent that had graduated from the academy.

"How'd it go this morning?" She'd been out with this guy a few times, and Clarice could sense a brewing romance.

"G _reat_ ," Ardelia replied, picking up the newspaper that lay flat on the desktop, "We're gonna catch a movie later tonight too." She moved the paper closer to her eyes, then brought it back down almost as soon. "He's one hell of a creep, huh?"

Clarice nodded, remembering back to the first time she had met him; the way he calmly stood in the middle of the cell, staring through the glass like he'd been expecting someone. The way his eyes lit up when they settled on hers - like he'd been expecting _her_.

Ardelia gave an exaggerated shudder and set the paper back down on the desk. "How do you not have nightmares?"

Clarice glanced at the photo, shrugging non-committedly, "I guess I'm just used to it now."

The truth was, she did have nightmares - she just didn't believe that he was the source. Most of the time it was the death of her father; the lambs screaming in terror as they were lead to the slaughter. It didn't happen every night, but enough that she had become used to waking up in the middle of the night, the blankets drenched with her sweat and tears rolling down her cheeks.

The only one she'd ever told about that was Hannibal Lecter. He was the only person in her life who'd ever thought to ask such dark questions.

What she also hadn't told Ardelia was that she did dream of him. Every single night. Not all of them were nightmares, though he somehow wound up in those as well. Sometimes it was simply her walking down the long stretch of concrete in the basement of the asylum; past the jeering, howling inmates in their cells. Some of the cells had lambs in them - some of the inmates were holding little lambs, and that was why they were screaming. Clarice knew he was at the end of the hallway; she just had to walk past this chaos to get to him. Finally, as always, he was waiting there, much like he had been the very first time she'd seen him, except he was much closer to the glass this time. He was awaiting her arrival, and she was anticipating the sight of him. He would smile salaciously at her, and raise a hand to the glass, pressing his palm against it. Stepping closer to the glass, she would raise her own hand and mirror his movement, placing it over his as though there was no glass between them. They would stay like that for three seconds, looking each other right in the eye. He would smile, and she would feel her lips begin to. And then she would wake up.

At the moment, that dream was the most recurring in her mind. She couldn't remember what she had just dreamt about when she'd been asleep a few moments ago, but she would bet her life he had been in it.

She had to find him.

She had to find out why he occupied her every waking thought.

"Christ, I'd never sleep _again_ if I had to be the one to talk to him. You've got nerves of _steel."_ Ardelia commented, kicking off her shoes. "I'm gonna jump in the shower real quick. Do you wanna come to the movie later on too? We could grab one of the other guys to come, keep you company." The woman winked at her, and Clarice rolled her eyes with a smile.

"No thanks, I'm actually gonna go out myself; run some errands, exercise a bit."

"Oh great!" Ardelia looked relieved that her friend was actually leaving the apartment for a reason other than work. Clarice felt bad that she worried her friend so, but she couldn't stop what she was doing. It had become a mania. She had to catch this man.

Clarice padded into her bedroom to get dressed - she wanted to put her most comfortable workout clothes on. She didn't tell Ardelia that she was still hoping to find something to point her in the right direction. She had searched high and low, found a few things along the way but nothing very significant. She couldn't let him disappear anymore than he already had.

She stripped off her clothing - just an FBI t-shirt and a pair of matching sweatpants she used for pajamas. She was pulling a long sleeved shirt over her head when she saw it - something out of the ordinary. It lay on the top of her comforter, a folded up piece of paper. It wasn't white printer paper, but a cream colored thick paper, like something artists used. Clarice swallowed hard, moving across the carpeted floor to her bed. _There is no way..._ Or was there? There was only one person that she knew of that would leave a note for her with that kind of paper. Artists parchment.

"You sonofa _bitch_ ," she whispered, reaching out and gently grasping the paper as though she feared it would crumble between her fingers. Her hand trembled slightly as she brought it up off the comforter, but not out of fear. She would never admit the emotions that stirred within her - not in a thousand years. Not even to herself. Slowly she opened the two flaps so that the page was expanded to its fullest extent. It was only folded in half once, and when she opened it she could see why. There was a graphite drawing of a woman holding a baby lamb. The amount of shading and detail that was on the page, which wasn't bigger than 8x5 inches, was incredibly impressive. Not that she was surprised. The artist once told her that his memory had been all he had during his imprisonment. She knew he had an incredible eye for memorization and detail.

What did startle her a little was that the woman in the picture was _her_. The likeness couldn't have been more accurate - it was like she was looking into a mirror. It momentarily stunned her as she stared into her own eyes, her own arms cradling the tiny lamb to her chest. In the drawing she had what looked to be a cloak wrapped around both of them, leaving her shoulders bare but modestly covering every other part of her.

The second clear thought was that the person who had so carefully placed the note on her bed had to have snuck in sometime within the past two hours, because that was about how long she'd been asleep for. The person who had snuck in had to have meticulously calculated when she would be alone in the apartment - was he trying to time it so that she would be asleep? Had he thought he could catch her while she'd been awake? A million different questions ran through her mind, all at once, leaving her breathless.

The third thing she noticed, the most telling feature of all, was the short inscription on the bottom left side of the page, written in thin black ink.

 _"Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs."_

 _~H.L._

 **Hey guyssss 3 I swear I'm attention deficit so here's yet another new story XD OTP ftwwwww**  
 **I don't own any of the characters, or the song Wolves by Selena Gomez and Marshmello (I think i'm spelling that right...?), and I also don't own the quote at the end - it's by Isaiah Berlin**  
 **ENJOY! Happy belated Thanksgiving erryoneeee**


End file.
